


Somebody Catch My Breath

by Crab_Lad



Series: Reverse au [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Role Reversal, The Fall - Freeform, falling, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crab_Lad/pseuds/Crab_Lad
Summary: one late night, Azirfell talks about his fall





	Somebody Catch My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> me, finds a nifty song lyric: ah yes. This is perfect. 
> 
> anyway enjoy!  
Takes place in your time period of choosing.

“Sometimes I feel like it would be easier if I Fell,” Crowley said, one night when they had retired after their long dinner. 

It had started the demon so much he had dropped his drink. 

“Take that back.” 

Crowley blinked at him, shocked by the ferocity in his tone. Not once had he ever heard the demon raise his voice, not even during their fight in the 19th century. 

“Take that back,” he repeated, his voice wavering as he looked away. “You don’t know what it’s like to fall.” 

“Then tell me.”

\----

Aziraphale had seen the chaos descend around him. He had watched as brothers were torn apart, friendships shattered. Lucifer had successfully dragged half of the angels to his side, including the archangel Raphael. Then the war broke out, the angels and the traitors-  _ demons  _ they were calling them fighting amongst each other. 

It had shook Aziraphale to his core. He was a peaceful being and hated to see the violence and the death around him. Both sides lost many warriors. He had watched friends turn from gentle souls to vicious warriors, fighting for the sake of the Almighty. 

“Why?” he had asked, lost, sitting in the fields of battle, “why would She allow this?”

No one ever had an answer for him. And he watched, day after day, as the battle raged on.

They needed more warriors. They turned to the angels not fighting, some joining Lucifer’s side and some joining Heaven’s. 

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel had said, walking up the angel from where he was watching the soon to be populated earth. “It is your time. Pick up your sword from-”

“No.” 

He didn’t even turn around when he spoke, refusing to look at the Archangel that had allowed all this suffering. 

“I refuse to fight.” 

“But you must. It is your duty to the Almighty,” there was a righteous anger in Gabriel’s tone. 

He stood, turning, staring the Archangel down despite the power difference, “I refuse to follow someone who would let Her children fight each other. I refuse to take part in a battle where I’ll have to slay a friend. If She really loved us, She wouldn’t have allowed this!” 

Suddenly, a heavenly chime rang out, and all the angels cheered. Michael was standing victorious over Raphael. Gabriel turned to Aziraphale with a wicked grin.

“It is time. Goodbye, Aziraphale.”

The ground underneath him dropped, and he fell.

Down.

Down.

Down. 

Firey pain seared throughout his body, engulfing his wings. The wind hit him violently, and all he could hear was screaming. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was him or the others. Where he could feel his grace, his connection to the Almighty, lit up with sparks. It felt like lightning coursing through his body, tearing and ripping. It tore itself from his soul. His wings turned ashen, changing, burning, feathers falling off. Aziraphale’s halo shattered, pain running through him like a broken bone. It was unimaginable. Nothing ever would be able to describe how he felt.

Then he hit the ground, fire, brimstone, sulfur, and blacked out. 

When he came too, he was huddled in a corner, his broken, featherless wings wrapped around him. Hell was supposed to be hot, but it felt cold. Lonely. Where the warmth of the Almighty’s love used to be was now a gaping black hole. Nothing. He felt nothing. 

His first night in hell, Zirafell wept. 

A day later, he shifted into his beastly form for the first time, taking the form of a small rodent. At his size, he was able to avoid the nastier of the Fallen. 

He spent the first week nursing his wounds and dealing with the isolation. There were no friends in Hell. 

\---

“You don’t know what it’s life to have everything you’ve ever known, everything that’s made you, you torn from you, ripped from you. You don’t want to Fall. It's worse than losing a limb. It’s losing yourself, who you thought you were and your stability.” 

Crowley had sat up, pulled Azirfell into his lap to wipe away his tears, and listened. The whole time his heart  _ hurt.  _ He wished he could have been there for Azirfell. He wished he could’ve helped.

“So you take that back. You don’t deserve to go through that.” 

“And neither did you,” he finally interrupted softly, cupping Azirfell’s face in his hands. “You didn’t deserve to become a demon.” 

The demon sniffled, reaching up to rub his eyes. He wouldn’t look Crowley in the eyes, but let out a quiet, “Thank you.”

Crowley regretted what he said, but his anger towards Heaven only grew more. 

**Author's Note:**

> :))
> 
> i have a tumblr! come scream about these two with me i love them
> 
> @goodalexomens


End file.
